Truthfully, at this point he was being bullheaded for the simple sake of bullheadedness. If Ace claimed something was white, he had the oddest urge to insist it was black.
The sigh Ace heaved was overly dramatic, but before he could come back with some pithy reply, Ozzie leaned forward and pointed through the windshield. “There’s our guy.”
“Shit.” Rusty saw Popov heading back up the alley in the direction he’d come.
Opening the VW’s door, wincing when the corroded hinges groaned, he stepped out into the cool Moldovan afternoon. He’d bugged out of the Marines a long time ago, but he liked to think he still had the chops. Unfortunately, had Ozzie not pointed out that Victor Popov had exited the café and was on the move, Rusty might have missed the man entirely.
Ace did that to him. Pulled him off his game.
“Hey!” Ace whispered before Rusty could shut the door and set off after Popov. “Don’t forget to check in. These streets and alleyways can get confusing. I don’t want to lose you.”
Rusty placed his hand atop the car’s doorframe and leaned down. “Ah, you say that like you care.”
Ace’s face fell, and something shadowed his ocean blues. “Just because I don’t agree with every aspect of your life doesn’t mean I don’t care,” he said softly.
That was the true rub, wasn’t it? It would have been one thing if their constant bickering had been born of nothing but lust paired with dislike. But the truth of the matter was, except for the one salient fact they couldn’t seem to agree on, they admired each other. Respected each other. And Ace? Well, he was infuriatingly nice. One of the nicest guys Rusty had ever met. And brave. And loyal. And—
What a train wreck.
“Will do.” Rusty gave Ace a jaunty salute. Sometimes it was impossible to be around Ace’s niceness without getting some of it on him.
After shutting the VW’s door, he turned to tail Popov. Activating his throat mic, he reported to the group positioned in front of the café. “Elvis has left the building. I’m on his six.”
Ace’s voice sounded in his ear a second after the noise of the Volkswagen’s engine sputtered to life. “VW Team is on the move.”
“Roger that,” Boss said at the same time Ghost replied, “Ten-four. We’ll send Rock around back to take up your position by the alley in case the buyer comes or goes that way. Front Door Team over and out.”
“Rusty…” Once again it was Ace’s voice in Rusty’s earpiece as he headed down the alleyway, dodging a suspicious-looking trash bag that seemed to be home to a rat, if the rustling sound inside was anything to go by. “I’ll head south two blocks and wait for your instructions.”
The baritone swirling in Rusty’s ear made the hairs on the back of his neck twang upright. He realized he hadn’t answered when Ace said, “Rusty? You copy?”
Activating his throat mic, he replied. “Yeah. I got you.”
Except he didn’t have Ace. He couldn’t have Ace.
As if on cue, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. When he looked at the screen, he saw the word “Mom.” Below that was a photo of his mother in her favorite apron, the orange one with the yellow daffodils embroidered around the edges.
She was the reason he couldn’t have Ace.
Ever since he’d gotten himself entangled in Black Knights Inc.’s most important mission, she’d been calling him every couple of days. Checking up on him. Not quite believing his story about taking some time off from the Dover cod-fishing business he’d inherited from his English grandfather to hang out in Chicago with some former military pals who happened to design badass custom choppers.
He couldn’t talk to her right now anyway, but even if he could, he wasn’t sure he would. The truth was, he was sick and tired of lying to her. Tucking his phone back into the hip pocket of his Levi’s, he turned up the collar on his leather jacket and trudged after Popov, careful to look nonchalant. A guy using the alley as a shortcut to get where he was going, that’s all.
He might not have much control over some aspects of his life but, by God, he could control his part in this mission.
Chapter 11
The look on Sonya’s face reminded Angel of a loyal family dog that’d been left on the side of the road. Confusion. Sadness. And fear.
She hadn’t thought he’d actually go through with it, and her expression made him feel like he’d been stabbed in the gut. There was a hot pain low in his belly that spread down the length of his legs.
Add to that agonizing mix Grafton’s little revelation about the Black Knights. Not only about knowing them—BKI’s operators already suspected they were on the infamous Spider’s radar—but also about wanting to vaporize an entire section of the city of Chicago to get vengeance on them? It was safe to say it wasn’t only Angel’s stomach and extremities suffering. His head felt like it was filled with fire too.
Sonya turned to Grafton, placing a hand on the sleeve of his jacket. Angel winced at the contact. He could barely stand to be in the same room with the World’s Biggest Single-Celled Organism. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to actually touch the bastard.
Her delicate pat must have surprised Grafton too. His goateed chin jerked back. Turning, he focused on Sonya through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, one brow raised quizzically until it disappeared under his wig.
